Daughter Lost: Father to Find
by watchingpaintdry
Summary: Originally "To Find My Father". Olivia disapears after placing herself in witness protection. 17 years later, and she's resurfaced in a coma, after being attacked! Now, it's a race against the clock to find her attacker, and her missing daughter.
1. Disappearance

X-X-X-X-X

SVU Squad Room

May 2nd

"Where's Olivia?" asked Munch from his desk, raising an eyebrow at Eliot as he walked through the door alone.

"Dunno," said Eliot, shrugging as he hung up his coat. "She hasn't come in yet."

"Guys," said Wong, walking over to address Eliot, Munch, and Fin, who had turned around in his chair to listen.

"Craigen wants us in his office."

The detectives found a familiar face waiting for them in the chief's office.

Detective Brian, an FBI agent who had been assigned to the Streator case, was standing, hands in pockets, waiting for them.

"Gentlemen," he said, nodding his head. "I have news from Benson."

"Has something happened?" Eliot demanded.

"Not necessarily, Detective Stabler. Benson has been placed in the Witness Protection Program until further notice, due to her involvement in the Streator case. Suffice it to say that she will not be returning to SVU anytime soon."

"What're you talkin' about?" asked Fin. "Olivia never agreed to go into the program before, why should she now?"

"I have no idea, but I assure you that she entered the program and is being relocated by her own volition." Said Detective Brian.

"Still don't explain why she didn't say nothin' to any of us." Fin continued.

"I am simply here, by her request, to assure you all that she is well and in good hands. Good day." Nodding to Craigen, Detective Brian left the office without a backwards glance

The group sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts.


	2. Resurface: The First Act

X-X-X-X-X

REPOSTED!!!!!

X-X-X-X-X

17 years later

X-X-X-X-X

SVU Squad Room

June 16

12:32pm

"Captain Craigen?" asked a voice from the doorway.

The Captain looked up, his sharp eyes flashing as he studied the younger officer standing in the doorway to his office.

"Can I help you?" he asked, curtly.

"Detective Patch, SFPD, reporting, sir." Said the younger officer, standing to attention.

"You're a long way from home, son." Said Craigen, motioning for the younger man to come in. The door clicked shut. "What brings you all the way to the East Coast?"

"I am here to inform you of the attack on Olivia Benson, sir." Said Officer Patch.

"What happened?" asked the Captain, genuine concern in his voice.

"She was attacked in her home, sir. Multiple stab wounds to her stomach. She's currently in a coma at San Francisco Memorial hospital." Said Patch.

"How long?"

"About a week, sir. We didn't know who she really was until two days ago, when we were informed by WPP."

"Witness Protection?"

"The very same, sir."

"Who's leading the investigation?"

"Our commander has secured the crime scene, but we were told to wait until we were given the OK by you, sir."

"Tell your commander that we appreciate everything he has done, but my team and I will be taking it from here."

"Very good, sir."

Craigen nodded, before walking out his office door.

Elliot, Munch, Fin, Wong, and Warner were all standing together by the coffee machine, talking amongst themselves.

"All of you are to pack your bags, now." Said Craigen, before turning around to start to walk away.

"Why?" asked Munch, blinking at the Captain from behind his glasses.

Craigen turned back around to address the group.

"Olivia Benson is in a coma at San Francisco Memorial hospital, she was attacked a week ago."

X-X-X-X-X

"Doctor Jennings?" asked Craigen, walking up to a woman in a long white coat.

"Yes?" she said, looking up from a clip-board.

"I'm Captain Craigen; these are my Detectives, Tutuola, Munch, and Stabler. This is Doctor Wong, our shrink, and Doctor Warner, our ME. We're here…"

"To see Miss, Benson?" finished the doctor.

"Yes,"

"This way," said Jennings, leading them down the hall. As they walked, she started reading off another clip-board.

"She's lucky; none of the wounds hit anything vital. She should recover fully, if she ever comes out of her coma." She said, stopping at a door in the ICU unit. "There's another police officer here, down in the cafeteria, I think. He's also waiting for her to wake up, so he can ask her some questions. They're still trying to find her daughter, after all."

"What?" asked Elliot, staring at the Doctor as though she had just grown horns.

"You didn't know?" asked Jennings, raising an eyebrow. "Olivia Benson lived with her daughter, just turned 16 last month."

X-X-X-X-X

"Who could have done this?" asked Elliot softly, looking down at his former partner with pain in his eyes.

The rest of the group stood, silent, each in his or her own thoughts and grief.

At that moment, a woman in a police uniform stuck her head through the door.

"Captain Craigen?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I'm here to help with investigation." She said, stepping to attention.

"And your name?"

"May Bartlet."

"Ok, what is it?"

"Martial Bank downtown just called to inform us that a one Olivia Benson just emptied her entire bank account and safe deposit box of two handguns and about four million in cash."

X-X-X-X-X

"I don't see anything." Said Munch.

He and the others were currently going over the security tapes form the bank, trying to spot Olivia's daughter in the crowd.

"The guy behind the counter couldn't give us a better description?" Elliot snarled, glaring down at the scant few sentences that had been jotted down by the bank teller.

"Dark hair, dark sunglasses and clothes, boots, about 5' 4", and nothing other than that." He growled, glaring off into space.

"Do we have any reference pictures? From Olivia's house?" asked Munch, turning away from the video screen, rubbing his eyes.

May shook her head.

"I already looked. There weren't any photo's of Olivia's daughter anywhere in the house."

"I find that hard to believe." Said Craigen.

X-X-X-X-X


	3. Chaos Thoughts: Journey

X-X-X-X-X

_**Still don't own... **_

X-X-X-X-X

July 3

A gazillion miles later, and I'm still only half-way across the freakin' country.

I'm currently sitting in a diner off some godforsaken high-way, drinking my 6th cup of crap-of-the-day.

But, hey, as long as it keeps me awake long enough to get through tonight, I'll be fine. They don't seem to have many Starbucks around here, would kill for a mocha right now.

So much for there being one on every corner.

I sigh, looking up at the two patrol-y's sitting two tables over.

You'd think, with all the uproar about me vanishing right out from under the nose of not only San Francisco's finest, but also a group of NYPD that the cops would be a little more vigilant. But no, they're content to just sit there and gab about some freak running red lights with his pants off for a living.

I get the idea, though.

The cops think they're so big, so high and mighty. Just cause they are who they are, they'll get me eventually. I'm just some retarded, hormone crazed teenaged girl, distraught over seeing my mother nearly butchered alive.

Like I said, I get the message.

Me, big. You, really fucking small.

Just peachy.

I look at the dregs in my cup, then out the window at the darkening sky. Time to get rolling.

I stand, walking to the register to hand the lady a twenty. I must have a hundred of the freakin' things still in my bag, but I gotta skimp in times like these. Hey, what can I say, I'm on the run.

I yawn, I haven't slept in a week, not like I did before, mind you, but the stress is starting to weigh me down.

My car is parked in the most shadowed spot I could find, in the very back of the Diner's parking lot, hidden from the high-way.

It's not exactly the most conspicuous vehicle. I mean, come on, how many 1970 Ford Torino Cobra's do you see every day.

My baby never fails me, though. It's more reliable than any one person I've ever met, and it doesn't bitch at me when I feel depressed and just need to hit the road, the windows down and the wind blowing my troubles away; Ice beside me, his head out the window, tongue lolling around.

Speaking of which, Ice is looking at me with those pleading eyes that just scream 'I gotta pee!'. I sigh, opening the door so my pesky, black German Sheppard can go relieve himself.

Hey, at least he waited and didn't go in the car, then I woulda killed him.

He's coming back, trotting along, wagging his tail, smiling at me.

"Have fun?" I ask teasingly. He just keeps smiling, jumping in the back seat to curl up and go back to sleep.

I sigh again. He's gonna be out for most of the trip, but hey, he blends right in with the black leather seats.

Shutting the door, I listen to the police scanner for a moment, careful that there won't be any nasty surprises waiting for me as I breeze through the rest of my trip.

I rev the engine, which purrs to life like some giant, twisted, mutated cat. But it's still purring.

Pulling out, I make sure the patrol car is still parked and then head off.

The sky is darkening, the stars are begging to appear. I can find my own way now.

I love the night, the shadow, the silence. I love it.

I'm on my way, moving along, towards my destination, towards my revenge.

Here I come, New York.


End file.
